


Bad Romance

by Nerd2614



Category: Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: World Stars - Fandom
Genre: 2P Hetalia, ;), F/M, implication of a good night at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:55:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21742561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd2614/pseuds/Nerd2614
Summary: A short songfic between reader and 2p!France based on Lady Gaga's Bad Romance.Cross posted on Tumblr and the old, unedited version is on Quotev
Kudos: 2





	Bad Romance

François came home in a bad mood. He barely acknowledged you before stomping to his bedroom and slamming the door.

“Well, hello to you too.” You mutter, turning the page in your book. You’re used to his temper by now. The two of you had been spending time together for three years and were now as thick as thieves. The slamming of the door meant someone pissed him off, and the silence that now hung in the air was because he was trying to sleep away the red hot rage coursing through his veins.

The two of you were best friends (though both unknowingly craved more). Which is why when your house had a gas leak, you jumped on François’ offer to live with him for a few weeks.

You sigh as you finish your book and put it on the coffee table. The room’s an absolute mess. François always prefers a clean house so you decide to tidy up a bit to cheer him up. You pick up your phone, plug your earphones in and press shuffle.

_**Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh! Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!** _ _**Caught in a bad romance** _

The first few notes of the song swell through your earphones and you laugh. This song describes the feelings that you had for François almost to the letter. You sway your hips, dancing to the beat around his messy lounge room.

_**Rah rah ah-ah-ah!** _ _**Ro mah ro-mah-mah!** _ _**Gaga oh-la-la! W** _ _**ant your bad romance** _

When you clean at home, you always blast music and sing loudly along with it. However, you refrain from doing that here again. The last time you blasted music when he was trying to sleep, it didn’t exactly end well for the dirty dishes… or for your poor CD player.

Though you didn’t really mind that much in the end…

You chuckle at the memory while you lose yourself in the rhythm. Although he unfortunately half-destroyed your CD player, he had then dragged you upstairs and snuggled you tightly to his chest. You had only weakly protested, on the inside you had been ecstatic. When you later tried to ‘escape’, insisting you had to finish the dishes, François had refused. He had held you closer and muttered, “Non. You will wake me up, encore.”

It was the small things like that that give you hope. However you knew he wasn’t ready for you to confess yet.

_**I want your ugly,** _ _**I want your disease** _

François believes he’s unlovable, but you want to change that. He thinks he’s not as beautiful as his counterpart, Francis, but you think he’s even better. You see that he is dangerously, devastatingly handsome. It shows in the way he dangles a cigarette, the way he rolls up his sleeves, the way he smiles softly when he’s truly content.

_**I want your everything** _

You really do deeply care for François with all of your heart and soul. You want every piece of him, even the parts he thought were kept from you.

**_I want your love, l_ ** **_ove-love-love,_ ** **_I want your love_ **

The room looks much better now. You hope it makes him happier when he awakens. Whatever faults he thought he had, at least François always cleans up his messes. He has been a good influence on you whilst you’ve been living here.

**_I want your drama_ **

You know that François is a country, you have for a while. You know all about the crazy goings on of the nations and how it’s not recommended to fall in love, especially with a human. Being a season, you had been around longer than dear old France and think the amount of times he says that is unnecessary. You and your siblings know all about how difficult it is to outlive a loved one.

**_The touch of your hand._ ** **_I want your leather studded kiss in the sand._ **

You crave his touch. Your heart near stops whenever he gently grasps your hand in public, or holds you during horror movies. 

The most common fantasy you have is riding down to the beach on his motorbike (like you often do) with him and making out in the sand. You couldn’t help but imagine how his studded tongue would feel against your skin. What could you say? He was pretty damn hot in that leather jacket of his… the thought made you blush.

**_You know that I want you a_ ** **_nd you know that I need you._ ** **_I want it bad,_ **

**_your bad romance_ **

You don’t care if he isn’t the most romantic person; you need him in your life. He has to have an inkling of this, surely. You’re not exactly subtle about it. 

**_I want your love and a_ ** **_ll your lovers revenge._ ** **_You and me could write a bad romance._ **

Honest to goodness, you could write a bad, trashy romance novel based on your life. The feelings you have for François are unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.

 ** _“Want your bad romance.”_** You start to softly sing along so as not to disturb François’ sleep as you continue to straighten up the house. You grab a broom and dance through the kitchen with it.

 ** _“I want your horror, I want your design.”_** You’re oblivious to François who stands in the doorway. The second personification of France is surprised by the passion you sing with.

**_“'Cause you’re a criminal as long as you’re mine…”_ **

The words send a trill up both your and François’ spine. To live as long as they have, means to make powerful enemies. Neither have told the other, 

**_“I want your love. Love-love-love, I want your love!”_** You sing to the broom, holding it close as you dance with it. You’re voice nearly shatters with the emotion you’re putting into it. You care for him so much.

 ** _“I want your psycho, your vertigo shtick.”_** You shimmy and grind on the pole, eyes closed and head thrown back.

 ** _“Want you in my rear window. Baby you’re sick.”_** François shivers. By the way you’re singing (surprisingly in key) he knows that you’re thinking about someone in particular. A sting of jealousy pierces his heart and he wishes it was him.

 ** _“I want your love, love-love-love, I want your love.”_** He adjusts himself and you notice him out of the corner of your eye. The two of you lock eyes. He raises an eyebrow. You grin. Empowered by the music, you slowly sway your way over to him. You take your earphones out so that the both of you can hear the song.

 ** _“You know that I want you and you know that I need you. I want it bad, bad romance.”_** You place a hand on François’ clothed chest and start to dance on him like you were on the broom. He tenses. 

Do you know what you’re doing to him? He allows himself to entertain the possibility that you really do love him… or at least want him.

 ** _“I want your love and I want your revenge. I want your love, I don’t wanna be friends!”_** You continue to dance and show off for him. François rests his hands on your hips. Inside you freak out, but on the outside you remain calm. 

**_“J'veux ton amour et je veux ta revanche j'veux ton amour.”_** Leaning into him, you whisper the french lyrics into his ear. His fingers tighten. His breath hitches.

 ** _“I don’t wanna be friends.”_** You whisper desperately in his ear. “S'il te plaît, François?”

He freezes. He doesn’t respond.

**_I want your love and I want your revenge, you and me could write a bad romance (Oh-oh-oh-oh-ooh!)_ **

The music becomes background noise. You immediately halt dancing. He still says nothing.

“Um, it’s ok. Nevermind. I’ll just…” You step backwards and François’ hands fall from your sides. “Guess our lives are just like a bad romance, aren’t they?”

The music continues to play and you keep walking backwards. You end up hitting the pantry cupboard before François reacts in any way. He storms over to you.

“You didn’t let me answer.” He growls. His aura towers over you. Although he looks crazed, he cradles your face with unnerving gentless. 

**_Rah rah ah-ah-ah! Ro mah ro-mah-mah, Gaga ooh-la-la!_ **

**_Want your bad romance_ **

He kisses you. It’s gentle and rough, yielding and firm. The kiss, like him, was contradictory and charged with emotion. 

“'Je t'aime.”

And that night was definitely not bad at all.


End file.
